Lust
by Mugen7
Summary: It was long shot, But he waited, And hoped for the day, That someone, Anyone, Would bring him back to the battlefield, His sanctuary. Where there he could fulfil, His Happiness, His Love, His Desire . . . His Lust.


**Lust**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was in His blood,

His nature,

His _very_ being,

To seek Battle.

It is who is he is,

What he yearns for,

What he breathes,

And what he lives for.

To fight powerful opponents,

To fight the best of the best,

And to test his abilities against those of the very best,

So that he may push himself further,

And reach greater heights,

And surpass himself again,

And again,

And again.

. . .

But most of all . . .

He would indulge himself in the thrill of combat,

So that he may satiate his thirst,

To fulfil,

His Desire.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_He was seen as psychotic . . ._

_Cold and apathetic to everyone,_

_And everything._

_He showed not an ounce of feeling,_

_Nor concern,_

_Nor remorse,_

_None of it._

_He showed nothing at all to those of the fallen._

_. . ._

_But why should he . . ._

_After all,_

_He was the one who slaughtered them._

_. . ._

_He was merciless._

_Spilling the blood of those who opposed him,_

_And who he opposed._

_. . ._

_There were many,_

_Countless in number._

_Squads,_

_Platoons,_

_Battalions,_

_Brigades,_

_Army's,_

_All of them stood no chance against him._

_He alone_

_He was a Squad,_

_He was a Platoon,_

_He was a Battalion,_

_He was a Brigade,_

_He was a walking Weapon,_

_A One-Man Army,_

_A man so young brimming with such power,_

_Such prowess,_

_Such potential,_

_Such focus,_

_. . ._

_And yet . . ._

_He didn't seem human,_

_At all._

_. . . . . ._

_Even on the brink of death,_

_The stubbornness of these poor souls wouldn't allow them to quit._

_He had to give them credit for their resolve,_

_It was most admirable._

_Not many would have the will to continue when all hope was lost to them._

_And for that . . ._

_He would spare them._

_. . ._

_Not because of sympathy,_

_And certainly not because of guilt._

_. . ._

_It was because,_

_In his eyes . . ._

_They weren't worth it._

_In his eyes,_

_They were pathetic._

_In _his_ eyes,_

_They were nothing_

_. . ._

_But trash._

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

How long had it been . . .?

Since he last felt such,

Elation

. . .

He didn't know.

He couldn't remember when fighting became such a bore to him,

Or how long it had been since he started holding back in all his fights . . .

Anything to make them last longer.

They were all so weak,

So outclassed,

That if he tried even a little,

It was already over.

He would crush their spirits,

And he wouldn't give a damn.

. . .

However,

For those stubborn fools who refused to see sense and end their futility.

. . .

He would,

Without hesitation,

Kill them.

It was with these countless acts,

That he was revered as Heartless,

Soulless,

Mindless,

. . .

A Killer

. . .

Or so they thought.

. . .

There were only a handful of people,

Who had been able to push him to the absolute limits,

The absolute max,

Of his power.

Both in Mind,

Body,

And Soul

. . .

But he wouldn't stop there.

No

He wasn't one to believe in 'limits'.

When he would reach a new pinnacle,

He would push forward,

Draw forth more strength,

More power that he didn't seem to have,

And his tenaciousness would spur him on,

And surely kill him if he wasn't careful.

But like they say,

"What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger"

. . .

And stronger he did indeed become.

. . .

_Too strong_.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_Once again another waste of his precious time,_

_Well whatever could be classed as 'precious time' nowadays._

_Left unsatisfied again,_

_And again he had yet to have his fill . . ._

_For a _long_ time._

_He became sour,_

_Bitter,_

_Irritant,_

_None of them were worth the time of day._

_None, of them._

_No amount of training could fill the emptiness of his desire,_

_Not even the endless heaps and scraps of metal could do anything to relish his craving._

_He couldn't even savour the taste of a good fight anymore,_

_As well as a victory._

_. . ._

_His instincts had never,_

Never_,_

_Failed him before . . ._

_So why now?_

_Why now was he lead to facing petty competition that did nothing to benefit him?_

_Why now were his skills left to tarnish for all they were worth?_

_Why?_

**"**_**Why? Damnit Why?"**_

_At first there were no complaints because there was always someone, and something worth fighting._

_. . ._

_But,_

_The more battles he fought,_

_The less worth they had,_

_Till it reached the point that they,_

_Altogether,_

_Were worth,_

_Nothing._

_. . ._

"_Is everything okay?" asked a feminine voice._

_Snapped out of his grievance he looked over to the women who sat herself beside him. His apathetic red eyes met her dull blue with a calculating stare._

"_What do you want?" he speaks rather coldly, shifting his eyes away from her so that he may empty his mind from unsettling thoughts that swam throughout his conscious._

"_I... was concerned" she answers very reluctantly from being in her friend's presence, feeling his animosity flare around him like a blazing light._

"_I didn't ask for you concern" he says in a bold manner keeping his focus adrift._

"_I know..." the women speaks in finality as she bows her head, feeling best not to talk anymore and hoping her presence doesn't annoy him. If not further if it hasn't already._

_. . . . . ._

_. . ._

_. . ._

_. . ._

_. . . . . ._

"_I keep telling myself... that, it'll come to pass. That eventually, I can enjoy fighting again"_

_Yes, she knew. She may understand how he _feels_ but he she, better than anyone else, knew just how much he loved to fight._

_ Always seeking the next challenge, fighting every battle as though it were his last, just... living in the moment._

_The battlefield is his home,_

_His playground,_

_It is where he felt most alive._

_Where he truly felt he belonged._

_. . ._

_But... now . . ._

_Now he was a shadow of his former self._

_Whereas as before he would become ecstatic when faced against a strong foe,_

_And showed respect for those he slayed . . ._

_Now, he just displayed senseless violence,_

_Toying with his opponents and when he had enough,_

_He would deliver the killing strike._

_When she thought about it,_

_It was as if his love for battle,_

_Had turned against him._

_. . . . . ._

". . . _I know it's hard... and I can't, I won't promise you that everything will work out. But, but I genuinely believe... that it will get better"._

_The raven-haired male stayed quiet, and took his friends words to heart . . ._

_Well, what was left of it at least._

_As odd and... weird, she tended be. She was the one person who'd stick by him, even when he tended to act like an asshole sometimes._

_. . ._

_Still . . ._

_. . ._

"_Thanks, but... I'm just not so sure anymore"_

_She watched as his head rose. His face was stoic, and void of any feeling._

_But what attracted her most, was his eyes._

_They were much colder,_

_More... hollow_

_. . ._

_Dead_

_They frightened her, so much, that she'd frozen in place._

_In her vision she saw him rise to his full height, towering over her, and walked off. A cold, dense aura lifted itself from his form._

_. . ._

_What would happen now?_

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

To this day,

He continued as he did.

Fight after fight,

He continued to dominate,

Remained unmatched,

His strength immeasurable,

And his power,

Ever growing.

No more would he prolong his fights.

No more would he toy with his opponents.

If his challengers couldn't last long enough against him,

Then he'd finish it in an instant.

. . .

But he still remembered how things used to be,

How he fought for the sheer pleasure of it,

How he revelled in the excitement,

Not thinking about winning,

Or losing

. . .

He would just fight to his heart's content.

. . .

It was a long shot,

But he waited,

And hoped for the day,

That someone,

Anyone,

would bring him back to the battlefield,

His sanctuary,

Where there he could fulfil,

His Happiness,

His Love,

His Desire,

. . .

His Lust


End file.
